The sound of a thousand books snapping shut echoed in the chamber, and then there was only silence. The three Adjudicators were gone, leaving the team alone in the vast, empty courtroom.

FaeLina hovered, her wings limp, her face have a mask of pure horror. They had survived and they hadn't been banished. But they had been assigned homework: a seven-hundred-part report on the emotional, procedural, and philosophical purpose of their dungeon, due in one business cycle.

The heavy silence was broken by Pip, who let out a long, shaky breath. His shoulders slumped with relief. "We did it," he whispered, a nervous grin spreading across his face. "We're not banished. We won!"

His quiet celebration was shattered by FaeLina's horrified wail. "Won?" she cried, her voice cracking. "We didn't win, Pip! We've just been assigned a massive amount of paperwork!" Her voice rose with pure, procedural terror. "Do you have any idea how many subsections a seven-hundred-part report has? The footnotes alone will take years!"

While FaeLina was spiraling into a panic, Sir Crumplebuns was, as always, rising to the occasion. "A NEW QUEST!" he announced, completely undeterred by her despair. He puffed out his chest and raised his Spoonblade high. "THE QUEST OF THE SEVEN HUNDRED ANSWERS! A TRIAL OF INK AND WIT!"

"The cross-references will eat decades!" FaeLina continued, her voice now a high-pitched squeal, talking right over him. "And don't even get me started on all the extra bits they make you add at the back!"

"WE SHALL ARM OURSELVES WITH QUILLS!" Sir Crumplebuns declared, his own voice rising to match FaeLina's. "WE SHALL CONQUER FOOTNOTES! VICTORY SHALL BE OURS!"

Gilda just grunted, a single, low sound that cut through both of their frantic speeches. She looked around the vast, empty chamber, then at her friends. "So," she said flatly, "where do we sleep? And hopefully it's not on a stack of unfinished reports."

As if in answer to her practical question, a simple, seamless white door appeared in the stone wall. It slid open with a soft, polite hiss, revealing a long, white, perfectly lit corridor. There was no guide, no guard, Just a silent, unnerving invitation.

With a shared look of profound reluctance, the team stepped through. The corridor led them out into the Fairy Realm capital for the first time, where a small glowing orb waited like a bureaucratic tour guide. It made no sound, but it bobbed once in the air, a clear and unmistakable command to follow.

The orb set a brisk, efficient pace, gliding silently through the immaculate streets. The team had no choice but to hurry after it, their own messy, uneven footsteps a stark contrast to the silent, purposeful movements of the fairies who glided past without a glance. The city was a marvel of perfect, seamless architecture, with towers of glowing white stone and bridges of woven light, but they had no time to admire it.

At one point, the orb paused. A tiny, spherical golem glided silently up to a spot on the flawless stone street just ahead of them. It extended a small, fluffy buffer and meticulously polished a single, invisible scuff mark for a full minute before retracting its tool and gliding away. The orb waited until the procedure was complete before continuing.

Pip stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes wide with professional horror. "See?" he whispered to Gilda, his voice barely a breath. "They're even erasing the evidence!" Gilda just grunted and pulled him along to keep up with their silent guide.

Their journey ended at another seamless white tower. The orb bobbed once more before a door slid open, revealing not a home, but what looked like another processing chamber. The room was furnished with five perfectly arranged, perfectly comfortable, and perfectly sterile-looking beds, a single table, and nothing else. The air smelled of clean linen and a complete lack of personality.

"Provisional accommodations," a soft, disembodied voice chimed from the ceiling as the orb glided away. "As per Bylaw 412-D, all temporary visa holders will be assigned a sterile, non-denominational living space to prevent emotional contamination of the local environment. Enjoy your stay."

The door slid shut, leaving them in the silent, white room. Gilda immediately walked to the nearest bed and pressed down on the mattress. "Too soft," she grunted. "No support." Zazu ran a finger along the perfectly clean windowsill. "There is no dust," he murmured, looking deeply disturbed. "It's unnatural." Sir Crumplebuns, however, surveyed their new quarters with approval. "A FINE, IF SOMEWHAT PLAIN, BARRACKS FOR A NOBLE QUEST!" he declared.

The sight of the perfectly ordered room seemed to reboot FaeLina's managerial brain.

The look of horror was replaced by a grim, determined focus, and she zipped into the air, her wings buzzing with a new, frantic energy.

​"Alright, team," she announced, her voice sharp and clear. "We have one week to complete a seven-hundred-part report. The task is impossible, but 'impossible' is just a procedural category for tasks requiring additional paperwork." She turned to the team. "I will go to the Great Library of Procedure immediately and begin research. I am the only one qualified."

​She then looked at Gilda, Pip, Zazu, and Sir Crumplebuns, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Your job is to stay here. Do not leave this room. Do not touch anything. Do not talk to anyone. And do not, under any circumstances, cause an inter-realm incident. I am trusting you. Do you understand?"

​Gilda grunted. Zazu nodded slowly. Sir Crumplebuns gave a wobbly, but sincere, salute.

​Pip, however, just looked at the perfectly clean, perfectly safe, and perfectly boring room. "So we're just supposed to… sit here?" he asked, a note of dawning horror in his voice. "For seven days?"

​"It is the safest, most efficient plan," FaeLina said firmly. With a final, determined nod, she zipped to the door. It slid open just for her, and then she was gone.

​The door slid shut again, leaving the four of them alone in the profoundly uninteresting room. A long, heavy silence fell. Gilda, having nothing else to do, sat on her unsupportive bed and began methodically sharpening her axe, the soft shing, shing, shing of the whetstone the only sound. Zazu, finding a comfortable corner, promptly fell asleep sitting up.

Sir Crumplebuns stood at perfect, heroic attention, guarding the door from any potential threats, such as drafts, shadows, or improperly folded laundry.

​Pip watched them all for a long moment, the silence stretching on.

​Then Pip broke the silence. "So," he said to Gilda, "wanna go see the town?"

___________

Author's Note:

And the "Fairy Town Tour" begins! The team has survived the hearing, only to be trapped in the most beautiful, sterile, and infuriatingly perfect city in the universe. I love the contrast between our messy, emotional heroes and the quiet, efficient perfection of the Fairy Realm.

​FaeLina, of course, immediately gets to work on her impossible homework assignment, leaving the rest of the team with one simple instruction: do not cause trouble. Naturally, Pip has decided that the best way to not cause trouble is to immediately go cause some trouble.

​What kind of comedic chaos will Gilda, Pip, Zazu, and Sir Crumplebuns find in a city with no visible flaws? We're about to find out.

​Thanks for reading!

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